


Finality, Fleeting

by SkeletalConstellation



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Heavy Angst, I swear this ends happily, Laboratories, Major Character Undeath, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reanimation, Temporary Character Death, Tragedy, Undeath, Unethical Experimentation, Unethical Medicine, Whatever it takes, basically Brain refuses to lose his friend, but it's not very fun, shippy content if you reaaaaaaaaaaaally squint, starting at rock bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28305129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkeletalConstellation/pseuds/SkeletalConstellation
Summary: The Brain suffers a terrible loss and refuses to accept it.
Relationships: Brain & Pinky (Animaniacs)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 50





	1. The Loudest Silence

**Author's Note:**

> SO LIKE. This fic is really, *really* heavy to begin with and covers subjects of lab animals and euthanasia, and although things will end happily eventually it certainly doesn't start that way, so if that's not your cup of tea I totally get clicking away. That being said, for those of you who want to stick around for the ride- welcome, and enjoy!

The silence around him was deafening as he scurried through the lab, heart beating dangerously fast in his chest. The whole lab, his home, felt cold and foreboding as he rushed through the rows of beakers, test tubes, and equipment. He was normally logical to a fault, scientifically minded in everything he did- but now he silently prayed to whatever higher power could hear him that he was not too late.

He looked through the rows of cages labeled with yellow  _ TO BE TERMINATED _ tags, looking for sapphire eyes to peer back at him through the dark, but none met his gaze.

He cursed under his breath, picking up his pace until he reached the end of the row. Still nothing.

A set of doors stood before him in their place, doors he and all the others knew were one-way for small creatures like him.

He felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach, slowly pushing open the double doors into that room, mind failing to process what had transpired. No- no, it couldn't be. He couldn't be too late…

This room wasn't like the rest of the lab. It was too precise, too sterile, everything set up a little too carefully. Solemnity hung over the room like a widow's veil. One counter held a perfect row of empty translucent yellow bins- biohazard bins, the Brain knew, empty graves for the unfortunate souls destined for an early death.

A lump formed in Brain's throat as he saw a familiar figure lying in the last bin, far too still to be asleep.

Brain pulled himself over the lip into the bin, eyes stinging as he approached Pinky with uncharacteristic hesitancy. He looked asleep, peaceful even, a gentle look on his face, but there was no rise and fall of his chest. 

The Brain reached a shaking hand out to run through his companion's fur, tears rolling down his cheek as he felt the warmth that had yet to leave his body. His body was still limp as the Brain pulled him into a tight embrace, rigor mortis yet to set into his frame. The Brain had been only minutes too late. 

Carbon dioxide poisoning, the Brain already knew- he looked far too peaceful for it to have been any other method of euthanasia. It was almost funny to think about- on their own, carbon and oxygen were necessary for life, but together they could just as easily snuff it out. Fill your lungs and make you drift into an endless sleep, all because you had outlived your use. A far gentler finality, but an end none the less.

_ No, _ the Brain hissed to himself.  _ This isn’t the end. _

The Brain had never been one to give up. Individual plans, yes- he’d abandon a plan when it inevitably backfired, but he’d be out with a new one just as quickly as the last one failed. Countless ruined projects, countless failed schemes, and yet he stubbornly refused to quit. 

And here, now, faced with the ultimate fate of his closest friend, he refused to accept this as the end. He would not let the world take what little he had from him. He refused.

Furiously wiping the tears from his eyes, he pulled his late companion into his arms, lifting him with the utmost care, cradling him in his arms. Carrying him through the swinging doors, he ignored the solemn looks of the other damned rodents yet to meet their fate- he only had one thing on his mind, and their pity and concession would not hinder his journey. He ignored everything but his-  _ their _ cage in the distance, and on keeping Pinky cradled to him. Step by step, moment by moment, until they reached the relative safety and sanctity of their living space.

After gently laying Pinky down on the sponge that served as their bed, the Brain quickly left again, digging through old equipment and failed machines until he found the cryonic capsule- still in working condition after all this time. He needed it now- Pinky had already been…  _ gone _ for several minutes now. He could waste no more time- the longer he waited, the more permanent the situation became.

Setting the machine up seconds, the Brain rushed back over to Pinky, gently picking him back up and carrying him to the cryonic capsule. He laid him down with the utmost care, taking a moment to smooth his snow-white fur with hands that still trembled, fresh tears welling in his eyes. With a choked sob, he closed the lid, letting the freezer whirr to life.

“Pinky,” he murmured, tracing his hands over the glass coffin. “Wait for me. Don’t go yet… I’m coming to get you back.”


	2. A Foray into Resurrectionism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brain starts his experimentation.

_ Of all organs a vertebrate body possesses, none are more crucial for life as we know it than the brain, and by extension the nervous tissue. The death of any vertebrate is determined by the death of the brain, whether by lack of oxygen and/or nutrients or by direct destruction, and although other organs are crucial to the survival of the brain, they are all auxiliary in the context of having and maintaining life. Therefore, it stands to reason that if one wants to reanimate that which is no longer living, one must go about revitalizing the nervous system first and foremost.  _

The Brain scribbled furiously in his log, sketching out rudimentary plans and blueprints in the margins of his notes. It was far from a final product- he needed to make sure this was perfect before he'd allow himself to test it on his most precious subject- but it was a solid starting point, a place on which this most important of creations could get its foundational work. 

He'd have his closest friend back before the end of the month at this rate- and by all that was good and evil in the world he could not wait for that day.

The lab was all too quiet as he worked night by night. He tried to numb himself to it, focus all his attention into his research, not let such insignificant things such as grief or mourning drive him off his path. He couldn't- far too many of his plans had failed over such sentimentalities, and too much was at stake here for him to fail now.

All the same, he'd often catch himself speaking his words aloud, looking up to confirm that his cagemate understood him, only to remember he wasn't here, he was still curled within the confines of the capsule, and he'd feel himself slump a little where he stood, feeling a dangerous tightness in his chest. He wouldn't indulge in grief, though- it was too much like conceding to his loss, and he'd never concede,  _ couldn't  _ lose now- so he'd swallow his tears and set himself right back to work.

He had worked out several solutions that, theoretically, could work- using enzymes and hormones to trick the body into action, electrically stimulating the nervous system, even cloning- but that was where he ran into his first stumbling block. All these ideas were purely theoretical, and although he'd usually go right ahead and build a functional model trusting in his own calculations to guide him, he couldn't be so gung-ho about this project- there was, after all, only one Pinky, and even a tiny error could prove catastrophic. He only had one chance to get it right on pinky, and megalomaniac that he was, he wasn't going to risk something so complicated without trial and experimentation to assure his success.

Which meant, of course, he needed subjects to run trials on.

As much as he hated to admit it, the human view of his species being disposable proved useful to him in this endeavor. 

The first trip back through the one-way doors made his stomach churn with dread and disgust, but he pressed on regardless, steeling his nerves as he pulled himself over the lip of a in-use biohazard bin. Out of the three mice there for disposal, the Brain selected a larger albino specimen, keeping in mind Pinky when making his choice- the closer he could get, the more likely the final product would work.

The body had already gone stiff by the time he got to it, making it harder for him to lug it back to his workspace. He ignored the looks the other residents of the lab gave him- he knew they couldn't stop him, but they were certain to talk, and he wasn't exactly _ proud _ of being a resurrectionist. If the situation had been any different, he'd find what he was currently doing reprehensible.

But, as it were, these evils were necessary. Whatever price he had to pay, he would get Pinky back.

Depositing the body in his makeshift workspace, he went about logging this first trial, first step of his journey into reanimation:

_ Revitalization, test 1: _

_ An unaltered albino  _ Mus musculus,  _ henceforth Subject I, was chosen for the following test. TOD of Subject I was within an hour of initial tests. _

_ Test 1: Postmortem Nervous Stimulation _

The Brain attached the prototype mock-up to the spine of the mouse, stealing his nerves to not become squeamish-  _ science could be messy, _ he reminded himself.  _ Remember your cause. _

Successfully attached, he flicked the switch. 

The mouse twitched to "life"; its limbs moved and tail twitched, all to the beat of carefully calculated electrical pulses. The Brain could see from the getgo that it wasn't conscious, its nerves simply responding to the electricity pulsing through them, but the fact that he had successfully tapped into the nervous system was still a huge victory. Getting the brain back online shouldn't prove much of a challenge if his first iteration could already do so much.

He checked for a pulse- no such luck, he'd have to improve upon his design first it seemed- and flicked the machine off, the body going still again.

_ Subject I regained mobility in limbs and tail, although no neurological or cardiovascular activity followed suit, as expected. Further prototyping required. Suggested course of action: investigate revitalization of the cerebrum separately, look into hormonal responses in conjunction with electrical stimuli. _

The Brain washed the dirt off his hands, the first ribbons of dawn on the horizon already. It was a sentimental thing to do, he thought, burying his test subject rather than leaving it for the scientists to clean up, but he knew Pinky would have insisted on giving it a proper send-off. 

Pinky… the persistent ache settled back in his chest, and despite his best efforts he couldn't quite swallow it down. He found himself wandering back to the capsule, his weakening knees giving out in front of it. He curled up against the side, feeling the choking tears rise from his chest to his eyes, soft sobs bubbling out of him. 

He needed him back, he- he couldn't go on like this. 

He hated it. He hated how cold he felt when he tried to sleep, how silent his world had grown, no squeak of the wheel or verbal stimming to fill the background. He even hated the lack of interruption in his work, the confounding questions that betrayed a complete lack of understanding in his plans. Once, he found them a nuisance, now he’d sell his own soul to get these little things back.  _ You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, indeed. _

Above all else, he hated how alone he was. In all his years of conquest and bids for glory, he’d never been alone. Even when his plans failed spectacularly, there was always a smiling face to help him to his feet and get him bandaged up.

That smile had been stolen from him, and only then did he know he couldn’t live without it.

He tucked his stiff, broken tail around him, leaning against the cold glass of the casket. “Soon,” he whispered to the one who could not hear him. “You just have to hold on a little longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL NOW there goes another chapter! I'm certain the body-snatching (or resurrectionism as it is formally called) is a one-time thing and won't become pivotal to Brain's research. Totally won't.


	3. Rock Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A string of failures makes the Brain second guess himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, probably the saddest chapter this story will have :')

_ Revitalization, test 2: _

_ A wild type  _ Mus musculus  _ buck, henceforth Subject II, was chosen for this test. TOD approximately fifteen minutes from start of test. _

_ Test 2: Cardiovascular system revival _

_ The subject was exposed to Solute A, an anticoagulant mixture of my own design, and stimulated with an electric pulse.  _

_ Cardiovascular system was revived for the duration of stimulation, but failed once the stimulus was removed. No other nervous or cerebral activity recorded. Further tests on the conjunction of the cardiovascular and nervous systems is a must.  _

_ \-- _

_ Revitalization, test 8: _

_ Two wild type  _ Mus musculus,  _ one doe and one buck, henceforth Subjects IX and X respectively, were chosen for this experiment. TOD for Subject IX and X were both approximately one hour from start of test. _

_ Test 8: Stimulation of the Cerebrum _

_ Both subjects were exposed to Solute A and G, then had the cerebrum stimulated via minor electric pulses. Both subjects were monitored for brain activity. _

_ Subject IX began registering weak neurological signals that lasted the duration of 5.56 seconds after initial stimulus, before ceasing altogether.  _

_ Subject X registered significantly stronger neurological signals for 3.3476 seconds, a twitch seen in the left hind limb, before ceasing function. _

_ This is incredibly promising. Although both subjects returned to total brain death very quickly, I was still capable of returning the cerebrum to life- further tests required to stabilize this state. _

_ \-- _

_ Revitalization, test 19: _

_ One albino  _ Mus musculus  _ buck, henceforth Subject XXIII, was chosen for this experiment. TOD was within the hour of start of test. _

_ Test 19: cardiovascular and nervous system reconnect _

_ Subject XXIII was exposed to Solute L, then stimulated the cerebrum and cardiac nervous system via minor electric pulses. _

_ Subject XXIII began registering weak, but strengthening neurological signals. Cardiovascular system started functioning weakly. Both continued function after electric stimulus was removed for 2 minutes 36 seconds before failing. Subject XXIII was not successfully revived again. _

_ This is frankly astounding. I have managed to successfully revive a deceased organism, albeit for a short amount of time. With continued tests and refinement to my equipment, I should be able to bring a deceased specimen fully back to life and health. _

_ Pinky, this is it. Just a few more tests before I can come and get you back. _

__

_ \---- _

The Brain sat surrounded by crumpled paper, discarded prototypes, and bottles of solute, all haphazardly tossed around and aside as he worked. His paws left smudges on the page he now wrote on, still muddy from the ever-growing graveyard just outside his window. 

He supposed it was, in a grim, fucked up way, a blessing in disguise that his kind were considered disposable- new cadavers were readily available for him night by night, still fresh from the end-of-the-day tasks the scientists had to complete. He had a near unlimited stock of test subjects upon which to perform experiments and test prototypes, all at the price of his own moral standing. 

He supposed certain things were worth putting aside ones morals, though. He knew these sacrifices had to be made if he were to stand a chance of regaining that most precious thing he had lost. Every day without him was nearly too much to bear. He didn’t sleep anymore, barely ate- how could he, when his bed was so cold at night? What motive did he have to eat the dry, tasteless food pellets when there was no one with him to share the meal with? 

No, he had lost too much to give up. He was the one who would do the impossible.

At least, that's what he'd thought fifty-three tests ago.

Fifty-three tests since he'd managed to revive Subject XXIII for that fleeting moment. Fifty-three nights of failing to move forward in his experiments, only able to replicate the results of Test 19 without progressing further. He could reanimate the dead, but just as soon as he'd produced life it would slip through his fingers like water in his clutch. Countless times he recalculated and remeasured, made new prototypes and improved his solutions, yet every time the dead would live for mere moments before they were lost again to the void of eternity.

He wouldn’t let Pinky slip through his fingers like that, he  _ couldn’t, _ so each time he found himself returning to his notes, his failures stacking higher and higher around him. 

What was he doing wrong? What secret had managed to continuously elude him?  _ Him,  _ the Brain, genius that he was and future leader of all that lived? 

It wasn't fair that those who held more power than he could end a life without even a second thought. It wasn't fair that they had so little regard for the lives of rodentia that they could dispose of them like any other waste without a single hint of guilt or mourning for the life they were ending.

_ Hypocrite, _ he scolded himself.  _ You've been reaping the benefits of that very mindset for weeks now in your studies. You would be nowhere near where you are today if your species wasn't considered cheap and disposable.  _

It was true, and he knew it. His work was rotting him from the inside out, eating away at the core of his being, the core of his very motivation, and leaving him hollow and skewing his morality more and more with each passing day, each failing test. Who was he to judge humanity, when he'd become the very epitome of human indifference? 

How many cadavers would he need to desecrate to bring one back to life?

He washed his paws before he visited the capsule again. Washcloth in hand, he set about wiping down the glass until it glittered with a near crystalline shine, a pristine tomb for the one who slept within. Even as the rest of his workspace fell into disrepair, he kept the casket immaculate, free from the dust and dirt and clutter of his trials. 

Free from any dust, the Brain could see his reflection mirrored back at him, the dark circles and frown lines more pronounced with every passing day. The lack of food and sleep was depressingly obvious on his sullen features, his frown well worn and eyes no longer lit with the fire of conquest.  _ God, you look like shit. _

Beyond his reflection, Pinky's face, the same look of gentle peace on his features, as if he were lost within a quiet dream. The capsule was doing its job well; nothing had changed with his body aside from the light glimmer of frost crystalizing in his snow-white fur, gathering on his whiskers and eyelashes in tiny, intricate patterns of fragile, frigid lacework. The grip of decay could not touch him within the gentle chill of the cryonic capsule. In there, he'd stay forever perfect, even if the whole world came crumbling apart beneath him. 

"What do I do, Pinky?" The Brain mumbled, voice cracked from weeks of long-depleted tears. "I can't figure it out- I've tried  _ everything! _ I- what am I missing? What can't I  _ grasp?" _

He pressed his paws against the glass as his eyes burned, no tears in his little body left to shed. "Pinky, you always see the flaw! You alway-  _ fuck… _ you always know why it went wrong-  _ what _ am I getting wrong  _ now?" _

He sunk to his knees, leaning his cranium against the chilled glass, all the energy of his miniscule outburst draining as quickly as it had risen. He suddenly felt how exhausted he was, eyelids drooping as he let his body curl up into a tight little ball against the cold, hard capsule. 

"... If you were here… you'd have dumb lucked your way out of this whole thing already," he chuckled bitterly, feeling himself start to drift, weeks of sleeplessness catching up with him. "You'd have fixed everything… faster than you can say  _ poit…" _

The Brain's eyes dropped closed as sleep finally took him, still curled up by Pinky's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _promise_ next chapter won't be nearly this sad. Cross my heart. This one hurt too much to write.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos and a comment if you enjoyed! I read through every comment I get!


End file.
